


First and Last

by estrella30



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Boyfriends, Curtain Fic, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 04:30:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estrella30/pseuds/estrella30
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Nick are boyfriends and do boyfriend things like bake and cook and paint the guestroom and have sex. That is pretty much the entire plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First and Last

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually just a fic about Harry and Nick being boyfriends. There is no plot. In fact, there was a point where it started to have a plot and I DELETED THAT SECTION in a active decision to just make this a fic about then being boyfriends, so. That's what this is. 
> 
> Thank you to sali_mali for the beta and britpick! Any remaining mistakes are my own.

*

It’s half ten on a Saturday morning and Nick is fixing a cup of coffee for himself and some tea for Harry when Harry calls for him from down the hall. 

“What?” Nick picks both mugs up and pads to where Harry is stood frowning into the guest bedroom. Harry’s hair is tangled and knotty from sleep and his white t-shirt is hanging low around his neck, the sharp black tips of the birdwings poking out of the collar. Nick hands Harry his tea and Harry blows across the top before taking a sip.

“Cheers,” he says, still peering into the guestroom.

Nick looks past Harry and into the room. The bed is still made and the dressing table could almost be considered neat with only a few stray receipts and a spare set of Nick’s keys lying on the polished wood. Harry is frowning, though, eyebrows furrowed and mouth tipped down into a frown.

“Are we looking for something in particular?” Nick peers over Harry’s shoulder and takes a long drink of his coffee. 

“It’s just boring, don’t you think?” Harry waves his hand around to encompass the room in front of them.

Nick shrugs and starts to back away. It’s a guestroom; he has no idea why Harry is even paying it any attention. “Probably, but who cares? You haven’t slept in that room in months.”

“No, I know.” The tops of Harry’s cheeks flush bright pink. He reaches out and catches Nick’s hand, their fingers sliding together and pulls him in for a quick kiss. “It’s just so beige. And dull. Don’t you think it’d look really nice in like, I don’t know; a deep mossy green?”

“I guess?” Nick hedges. “That’s pretty specific, though, Harold. A _deep mossy green_?”

“Or maybe a burgundy; I always like burgundy.” Harry’s chattering about now, the distracted look gone from his face. He’s not even paying attention to the way Nick’s trying to poke fun of him which is a pity.

Nick frowns and wonders what brought this on. He thinks it through and says, “Did you delete all my cookery programs from the skybox and replace them with home improvement shows? I hate when you do that.”

“No,” Harry barks out a laugh. “I just think the room is boring and that we should paint it; is that so bad?”

“I guess not,” Nick squints and stares into the room. It is a bit dull now that he really looks at it. 

“Great then,” Harry hands his mug to Nick and claps his hands together. “I’ll go get changed and we can head out and get some paint.”

And, what? “ _What_?” Nick has no idea what’s happening but somehow he’s holding mugs of coffee and tea and following Harry back to his bedroom while Harry changes out of his sleep clothes. It’s not the first time Nick has followed Harry blindly around but he usually has a better idea of the end result than this. “We’re going out to get paint?”

Harry rolls his eyes as he pokes his head out of a black polo. “Yeah.”

“Because we’re painting the guestroom,” Nick clarifies. “As in _today_.”

“Try and keep up, Nick,” Harry says slowly. He pulls on some jeans and shoves his feet into a pair of Converse which might be his but might also be Nick’s; Nick honestly can’t remember. Harry crosses the room and takes the mugs from Nick’s hands, kissing him quickly on the cheek as he goes. “I’ll get my coat, yeah?”

Nick is baffled and confused and one step behind Harry yet again, so really, pretty much in the exact same place he’s been for their entire relationship. Nick may be older but Harry is far wiser when it comes to most things; it’s taken a while but Nick is happy with that arrangement by now. 

As for the guestroom, really, why the fuck not? Harry’s right, beige is boring. “Sure,” Nick grins and shrugs and digs through his wardrobe for a clean jumper to follow Harry out. “I’ll be ready in a minute.”

*

They get to the paint shop with minimal fuss and then spend twenty minutes arguing between Admiral Blue and Moss Green and honestly, this is way more fun than Nick had anticipated. He’d just give in and let Harry get the green that he wants but winding him up is too much fun to pass up. 

“I don’t like the blue,” Harry says for possibly the hundredth time. He’s got a crinkle between his eyebrows and he’s been pouting for ten minutes. He’s adorable. “I told you that already. It’s too droopy.”

Nick bites his lip to hold in a laugh. “Can a color even _be_ droopy?”

“I didn’t think so,” Harry mutters, “but Admiral Blue is proving me wrong.”

Nick honestly doesn’t care what color the guest room is: beige, blue, green, neon pink. It’s not like he ever sleeps in it. He should really just let Harry get the green he wants and then Harry will be happy and smile and probably give him a nice, messy thank you blowjob when they get home. Nick will stop teasing him soon, he promises himself. Just – maybe in a minute. 

“Well I don’t know what to tell you, Harold.” Nick holds his hands in the air. “I like the blue.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “If we get the blue I’m not helping you paint at all.” 

“That’s all right, love.” Nick pats Harry’s cheek and pretends to walk away. “I wasn’t the one who wanted to paint the room anyway.”

Nick gets about five steps away before he hears Harry huff and call out his name but Nick can’t help it, he can’t keep it in anymore. When he turns around his face breaks into a wide smile and Harry stares at him confusedly for a moment before pointing an accusing finger in his direction. 

“You’re fucking with me, aren’t you!” Nick tries to deny it - he shakes his head and starts to protest but he’s grinning too much, laughter bubbling up and out from his chest. “Oh my god, you’re such a bloody fucking wanker,” Harry advances on him and digs his fingers into Nick’s ribs, tickling him relentlessly.

Nick laughs and bats his hands at Harry trying to shove him away. They’re in the middle of a shop on a Saturday morning and Nick is having a slap fight with his popstar boyfriend about the color they’re going to paint the guestroom that neither of them ever sleeps in. Nick has no idea when his life got this ridiculous, but the harder Harry laughs, the pinker his cheeks get and the more his hair slips loose from his beanie. He’s breathless and giggling and snorting and Nick thinks to himself: _this. Right now I want to remember this_.

*

They decide on a blue-ish green color called Juniper because neither of them will fully surrender and let the other win. When they get back to the flat Nick sets up Harry’s iPod on the docking station while Harry grunts and shoves all of the furniture into the middle of the room. They cover it with sheets and strip down to ratty t-shirts and jogging bottoms, and Nick spends the rest of the day painting the room and finding out just how lovely the shade of Juniper looks smeared over the smooth skin covering Harry’s chest and belly and thighs. 

*

Nick is the last person Harry sees before he goes off on tour or away for press things or on any kind of holiday. Most of the time he leaves in the middle of the night, a car pulling up in front of Nick’s flat and idling quietly in the street while Harry grabs his bags and makes sure he has his phone charger and a paper to read on the plane. 

The first few times he left, Nick stayed in bed. He listened to Harry moving around the flat gathering his things and stayed in bed half-asleep until Harry came in to kiss him goodbye, his fingers cool and pushing Nick’s hair back from his face. Now though Nick gets up with Harry no matter what the time. He’s realized how short their time together can be and he doesn’t like to waste any of it sleeping. 

Nick will make tea while Harry’s in the shower and then stick some fruit in Harry’s travel bag and an extra bottle of water. Harry’s quiet while he gets dressed; drying his hair a little before shoving it half-wet into a beanie and grabbing his most comfortable jacket. He’ll come into the kitchen while Nick’s messing around on his mobile to kill time and drink his tea quickly while standing in front of the sink and before Nick realizes how much time has passed Harry’s mobile is buzzing telling him the car is already waiting for him outside. 

“I’m going to miss you,” Harry mumbles into Nick’s throat. Nick curls his arms around Harry tight, as if he can keep him longer the more he holds on. “I’ll be back in three days.”

“Three days,” Nick scoffs. He presses a kiss to Harry’s hair, gentle enough that Harry knows he’s joking when he says, “I’ll barely know you’re gone.”

“Obviously,” Harry pulls back and his eyes are twinkling. “I mean, until you want to eat something, of course. After living on nothing but pot noodles and takeaway for three days you’ll start to notice I’m not around.”

“I don’t know,” Nick shrugs. Harry disentangles himself and kisses Nick hard on the mouth one last time. “I kind of like pot noodles and takeaway.”

Harry mobile buzzes again and Nick’s throat goes tight. _Stupid_ , he thinks to himself. _You’re acting like a twat_. Harry’s at the door now and he turns and gives Nick one final wave and smile. “I’ll ring you when I get there.”

Nick nods. “Go,” he says, flapping his hands toward the door. “Go be a popstar, woo all the thirteen year olds. Ring me when you can and I’ll be here when you get back, all right?”

“Yeah,” Harry’s voice is quiet and sure. His eyes go crinkly at the corners and Nick nearly loses his breath when he thinks about how happy he is. “I know you will be,” Harry says and closes the door quietly behind him.

*

Nick’s just about to drop off into sleep when he jolts awake and sits straight up in bed because _fuck_. He forgot about baking for Paramore in the morning and now his choices for the rest of the night are try and fall back asleep and deal with Finchy laughing at him tomorrow when he couldn’t manage to make a bloody crumble or getting out of his warm bed to make the bloody crumble after he was planning on going to sleep. 

Bloody crumble. 

Nick would forget about it and claim in the morning he just left it on the counter or that Thurston had gotten his ferocious little jaws into it overnight, but the problem with that idea is Finchy. Fucking Finchy and his smug fucking face. Finchy would think it was the best thing in the world if Nick didn’t have anything to bring in to be judged and Nick’s not going to be the one to give him that much pleasure, no siree, so. Baking it is, then. 

Nick drags himself out of bed and shoves his feet into a pair of slippers as he pads down the hall. He pulls everything out that he picked up to make the crumble – he’s got flour and the butter and milk and some tinned fruit. There’s a good bottle of Chardonnay in the back of the fridge so he pulls that out too and gets the sugar down from the cupboard. Aimee left a bag of granola on the counter so Nick steals that as well and finds a mildly bruised banana behind the dishes drying on the rack so he adds that to the collection.

All right. He can do this. 

Nick thumbs his mobile on and starts googling crumble recipes but the longer he researches the more agitated he gets. All of them need things he definitely didn’t think to pick up; baking powder and brown sugar and eggs - goddamn bloody eggs. Harry definitely used the last of those for breakfast the other morning and while Nick didn’t have any complaints about the omelette Harry made at the time, he’s regretting it now. 

Nick eyes the bottle of wine and digs a bottle opener out from the kitchen drawer. 

By the time Harry’s letting himself into Nick’s flat, kicking snow off the bottoms of his boots and shaking it out from the tips of his hair, Nick’s halfway through the bottle and sprawled lazily in a kitchen chair glaring disdainfully at the ragtag assortment of ingredients he’s laid out on the counter. Harry glances down at his mobile then back up at Nick, his cheeks tinged pink from the cold and his smile bright. 

“The text I’m looking at says you need help baking,” Harry says. 

Nick beams. “I do,” he says happily, “And now you’re here.”

“Oh, so I’m your baking help?” Harry shrugs his coat off and hangs it on a hook by the doorway. When he comes back his boots are gone and he’s padding into Nick’s kitchen in thick oversized orange socks, a white Henley pushed up at the elbows and skinny black jeans. Nick’s heart thuds hard in his chest. Harry looks over at him and grins and Nick wants to kiss his mouth until he’s gasping for breath, maybe lay him out on the kitchen table and bite bruises into his belly and thighs. 

Harry leans over and kisses Nick swiftly on the mouth. “Hey. Pay attention and we can bake something and then I’ll suck you off, yeah?” Harry bites his lip and Nick nearly upends his glass of wine. “So what have you got,” Harry takes a step back and claps his hands together. He studies Nick’s counter and frowns. “What’s the banana for?”

“A snack, Styles, I have no idea,” Nick rolls his eyes and pushes up from his seat. He walks to Harry and slides his arms around Harry’s waist, leaning in to bury his face in Harry’s hair. “Did you bring me eggs? I told you I needed eggs.”

“I didn’t see the egg text so no,” Harry says and Nick chokes a little. “But don’t worry! We don’t need eggs.”

“Says who?” Nick can’t actually believe him. Harry turns around in his arms and kisses Nick’s cheek and chin, the side of his jaw. “All the recipes I saw say—“

“Bah, recipes,” Harry flaps his hand around. “We don’t need recipes and we don’t need eggs. We’ll just make something different, yeah?”

“Oh god,” Nick drones. “You’re terrible and I hate you, you know that, right?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You love me, don’t try and lie.”

Nick does, is the problem, and Harry knows it. Sometimes he wishes he’d tried to play it a bit cooler but the rest of the time he’s just glad Harry’s his. “I’d love you more if you brought me the eggs I needed for my crumble. Finchy’s going to have a field day if I bring in something rubbish.”

“Heyyy,” Harry pouts. “You don’t need eggs; we can use something else instead. Just trust me, yeah? It’ll be amazing.”

Nick finishes the bottle of wine while Harry makes some kind of biscuits with a lot of sugar and two bags of peanut butter Reese’s Pieces in them. They’re a little burnt on the bottom and the centers sink down from the weight of the sweets, but by the time Harry is done his cheeks and nose are dusted with flour and his hands are sticky with dough. Nick turns the oven off and strips Harry’s clothes off in the kitchen. He sinks to his knees and licks over the head of Harry’s cock, swallowing him deep and digging his fingers into Harry’s hips until Harry’s yanking on his hair and slamming his fist against the table and coming hot down Nick’s throat.

Nick bites at Harry’s chest, sucks a bruise into his shoulder the shape of Nick’s mouth and when he kisses Harry’s lips he tastes like sugar. 

*

It’s difficult, sometimes, the way their schedules work out. Harry’s gone a lot and even when he’s home it doesn’t mean that Nick’s free to see him whenever they want. He’s got the breakfast show and hosting responsibilities and award programs and Harry’s got rehearsals and promo for the band and it can be challenging. 

Sometimes Harry comes over when he’s got a break from the studio. Nick will be home napping after his morning and Harry’s got a few hours to spare. The rest of the lads will go to lunch sometimes, or meet up with their girlfriends but Harry always comes to him, waving Nick off when Nick checks to make sure there’s not some big popstar meeting he needs to be attending instead.

“Please,” Harry rolls his eyes and burrows deeper into Nick’s chest where he’s lying on the sofa. “I see them all the time. I’ll be seeing them for months. I just want to hang out with you, all right?”

Nick threads his hand through Harry’s hair and slips his other hand palm up under Harry’s, slotting their fingers together. He closes his eyes and kisses Harry’s ear, the side of his throat, the sharp curve of his jaw. 

Sometimes they have more than a few hours. When Harry’s home for a while he’ll spend days at a time at Nick’s flat, going to sleep with him late at night and waking up with him when Nick gets ready for work in the morning. They go food shopping together and cook together and when Harry does the washing up Nick comes up from behind him and slips his hands under Harry’s shirt. He unbuckles Harry’s belt and slides the zip down and wanks Harry off right there in the kitchen, Harry’s hands covered in soapy water, his hips pressed against the front of Nick’s cabinets. 

Nights like those, Harry will grab Nick’s hand and drag him back to the bedroom. He’ll shove Nick onto the bed and crawl up after him on his hands and knees, pulling both their clothes off and rubbing against each other until their skin is slick with sweat, Harry’s hair hanging loose and tickling Nick’s chest and stomach. Harry will nudge Nick’s hip until he rolls over and he’ll drag his teeth down Nick’s back, slick him open with his fingers and tongue until Nick is crazy from it, fingers twisted in the sheets and cursing and then Harry will fuck into him slowly, his arm wrapped tight around Nick’s chest, holding him close and breathing into his ear. 

Nick loves days and nights like that. He loves the other ones too; the ones where Harry barely has an hour to spare and he meets Nick at his flat or Harry’s or the studio or the loo in the sushi place they go to when Harry’s home. Harry’s takes him fast then and Nick nearly bruises his knees with how quickly he falls for Harry, how desperately he wants to make him feel good in the short amount of time they have. 

Nick doesn’t mind, though. Harry kisses him the same if they have thirty minutes or thirty days. His mouth is sweet and his eyes fever bright. He holds Nick close and wraps his arms around Nick tight enough that Nick can’t imagine anything ever getting in between them, and when he tells Nick he loves him all Nick can say is that he loves Harry too.

*

Nick’s just about finished with his bath when he hears the door to the flat open, Harry’s keys banging as they’re tossed into the bowl on the table beside the door. 

“I brought a curry,” Harry calls down the hall. Nick loves bake off nights. Harry brings in takeaway and Nick gets them each a bottle of wine and they lie on the sofa and yell things at Mary Berry and the contestants. It’s fantastic. He hears Harry’s footsteps coming down the hall and then he pokes his head into the bathroom, a wide smile spreading across his face. 

“Nice,” Harry drawls and wiggles his eyebrows. “Need help? I’ve heard I’m quite talented with a flannel.”

Nick tosses a handful of suds at Harry’s face. “Go away you horrible child, I’m relaxing.”

“Hmm, well I’ve got food and the wine and if you don’t hurry up I’m going to eat and drink it all myself so you might want to relax a little faster,” Harry grins bright and sharp and ducks out of the bathroom when Nick throws his loofah at Harry’s face. Nick huffs but he drains the bath anyway and dries off quickly just in case Harry’s not joking. 

By the time the show starts Harry’s sat on the sofa with the telly going and the takeaway all laid out on the coffee table. Nick put on an old t-shirt and a pair of jogging shorts after his bath and he flops down next to Harry and tosses his legs over Harry’s thighs. Thurston perks up from his bed on the floor and barks before scaling the sofa and jumping into Nick’s lap. 

“Aww,” Harry leans his elbow on Nick’s knee and grins. “See? He does like you a little bit.”

“He likes me a lot,” Nick huffs. He grabs his phone from the table and snaps a picture of Thurston all cuddled up on his thigh. Harry shakes his head when Nick uploads it to Instagram, his hair flopping down over his eyes until Harry scoops it back and pushes it away from his face. His fingers are curled around Nick’s bare ankle, the pad of his thumb sweeping back and forth. “So you’re going out tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry nods and mutters something at the telly and Nick has to agree: egg and bacon biscuits are definitely not for him. Harry grabs a wine glass from the side table and hands it to Nick then takes one for himself. “You don’t care if I go out, right? I figured you’d be asleep before I even left.”

Nick shakes his head. He doesn’t mind, not at all. Harry is young and famous and beautiful and should be going out at all hours of the night. Nick’s already had his time doing that – truth be told he still does it sometimes when he’s not got work at six in the morning the next day – but he’d never fault Harry for having a good time. 

“And deny the world your popstar presence? I’d never be able to live with myself,” Nick ducks when Harry tosses a pillow at his head. Thurston yips and whines and jumps off Nick and back onto the floor like the ungrateful furball he is and Nick thinks that this right here is actually a pretty perfect night already.

*

Harry gets back late that night smelling of smoke and cold night air. Nick hears him banging around in the kitchen first and then the bathroom. He hears the water run as Harry has a wash and cleans his teeth and then he’s slipping under the sheets and pressing his cold hands and the tip of his nose to Nick’s sleep warm skin.

“It’s late, Harold,” Nick tries for chastising but is pretty sure he sounds only sleepy. Harry laughs and his breath is hot against Nick’s back. He sets his teeth in Nick’s shoulder, kisses and bites his way up Nick’s throat and the shell of his ear and Nick wants to shove him away, claim that he’s tired and needs his sleep for the morning but Harry’s hands are making quick work of his pants, pushing them down his thighs and rolling Nick onto his back on the bed. 

Nick blinks up and can barely make out Harry’s features in the dark. His eyes are crinkled at the corners and his smile dopey and stupid. He’s half-pissed, Nick can tell, but that doesn’t seem to affect the way he can take Nick apart from the inside out just from the way he bites at Nick’s jaw and licks into his mouth. 

Harry’s mouth is sticky and whiskey sweet and Nick fists his hand in the back of Harry’s hair and twists, nudges him down pulling in a breath as Harry sucks a bruise into the hollow of his throat. Harry digs his fingers into Nick’s hips and kisses down his chest. He wraps his pretty mouth around the head of Nick’s cock and looks up at him from under the veil of his fringe and his ridiculously long lashes and blinks. 

“Stop trying to look so smug when you’re sucking me off,” Nick grunts and Harry laughs, the thrum of it vibrating around his dick. 

Nick doesn’t last long and when he’s finished he shoves Harry over and sticks his hand down the front of Harry’s pants. Harry’s hard already and slick at the tip and he barely makes it through Nick curling his fingers around him and jerking him a few times before he’s clutching Nick’s shoulder and coming in thick hot pulses over Nick’s fingers and fist. 

“Mmm, missed you,” Harry mumbles. Nick grabs a tissue and cleans them both off then kisses Harry softly on the mouth. “Sleep now,” Harry says and curls himself into Nick’s chest, his breath evening out in seconds.

When Nick gets up for work a few hours later Harry doesn’t budge; just rolls into the warm space Nick’s left and continues to snore. Nick takes a shower and gets ready for work, stopping only to kiss Harry quickly before heading into the kitchen. When he gets there he finds the coffee pot already set up and his mug and spoon resting next to it with a note taped to the glass pot. 

_just press the button and its ready to go...love you loads see you later xxx_

*

Whenever Harry gets back from a trip the first person he sees is Nick. Nick doesn’t remember when it started that way. It possibly started before they were even a _them_ if he thinks about it. 

Nick thought he was the only one realizing it too at first, but one day while they were sitting in a Nandos after Harry got back from wherever he’d been the day before Harry smiled and said, “I like this; getting to see you first thing when I get back from somewhere.”

“Do you now,” Nick had tried to play it cool but his heart had been pounding so quickly he was surprised Harry couldn’t hear it over the din of the restaurant. Who knows, maybe he could. “What does that make me, your own personal welcome home committee? Maybe I should rent myself out. Nick Grimshaw: Welcoming home popstars since 2012.”

“Twat,” Harry tossed a chip at his head. Nick picked it up from where it fell on the table and munched on it happily. “Anyway I don’t mean it in a bad way, it’s just,” he shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s kind of nice.”

Nick didn’t expect that. He and Harry were friends. Nick loved spending time with him and he knew Harry felt that same, but that day something was different. It was the first time Nick looked at Harry and let himself think: _what if_. The problem was that Nick already knew he loved Harry but Harry was a great mate and Nick wasn’t going to risk that for something more if it wasn’t what Harry wanted. It wasn’t worth the risk.

Harry, though, had been braver than Nick ever tried to be. It was one of the first times it had happened and it’s happened a million times since, Nick’s used to it by now. That night Harry had been biting his lip and looking down at the food on his plate, and the next thing Nick knew he could feel Harry’s hand touching his under the table so light Nick could pretend he didn’t feel it if he wanted to. 

Nick didn’t know if he wanted to pretend that or not.

He looked up and Harry was watching him quietly, his eyes wide and green. Nick felt his belly twist in knots and his blood rushing quickly, echoing behind his ears. He took a deep breath and thought: _fuck it_ and turned his hand over so his palm was touching Harry’s and slid their fingers together.

“Who knows,” Nick wanted to look away, try and make a joke of things but Harry curled his fingers tighter and wouldn’t let Nick pull away. “Maybe this will be our thing; you get to jetset around the world but whenever you come home you can come see me first. Almost like I’m special or something.”

Harry’s cheeks had flushed pink and he bit his lip again around his smile. “Something like that, yeah.”

*

Waitrose is quiet for a Saturday morning. Nick has a list for the things Harry needs for the roast he wants to make that night but he’s too busy pushing the trolley and tossing unnecessary crisps and sweets into it to pay the list much attention. 

They make it around one aisle before Harry snatches the list from his hand and frowns. 

“I should have known you couldn’t be trusted with this,” Harry mopes. He shakes his head and his hair swings around messily. Nick wants to tuck it up under a beanie and keep it neat. He wants to drag Harry behind the rack of produce and do terrible things to him. It’s rough, being Nick Grimshaw; he’s got all these feelings all the time about Harry and it makes him crazy.

“Stop being distracting, we’ve still got to get a few more things,” Harry whines and grabs a bag of carrots from the produce shelf. Nick surges forward with the trolley. He doesn’t usually mind food shopping but now he’s thinking about Harry’s face and mouth and the way he’d look splayed out with all of his pale skin on display and suddenly Nick has a lot better plans for a Saturday morning than strolling around the supermarket. 

“I’m bored,” Nick whines. “Aren’t you done yet? You must be done soon. We can just order a takeaway later, I don’t know why we’re wasting all this time to begin with.”

Harry frowns. “Because I’m home and I want to make dinner,” he says. He scans the list one last time before sticking it in his pocket. “Just a few more things and we’ll be done and then we’ve got the whole day free, all right?”

Nick glances around to make sure there’s no one lurking around the corner with a camera and when he’s satisfied that they’re alone all he does is grab Harry’s hand and squeeze, his thumb rubbing over the back of Harry’s hand. Harry looks at him and grins and Nick’s happy, is the thing. Sometimes it’s hard to think things could just be easy.

“All right,” Nick tells him because really, wherever Harry is is where he wants to be. This is anything but news. “I’m ready when you are,” Nick says, and smiles because it’s true.

 

-end-


End file.
